Aatish Taseer’s Noon

It’s been ‘a hellish year’, the acclaimed writer tells GQ

Expectations of Aatish Taseer have been high ever since VS Naipaul dubbed him ‘a young writer to watch,’ but that hasn’t stopped the British-born writer and journalist taking risks and tackling tough subjects.

His recently-released second novel and third book, Noon, traces Rehan Tabassum’s tumultuous journey through India and Pakistan over two decades, addressing class conflicts, fundamentalists and political violence. The novel begins with the death of a young man’s father, a cruel echo of Taseer’s own personal tragedy: earlier this year his father, Pakistani businessman and former Governor of Punjab, Salmaan Taseer was assassinated by his bodyguard.

Taseer speaks to Neeti Mehra about his state of mind, his non-existent sartorial style, and the year that was.

What’s your current state of mind? Calm mostly; but a little restless too: I’m on the verge of beginning something new.

The presence of elsewhere is very prominent in Noon. Have you ever given into that desire to run away? In a sense, yes. Because the kind of flight that is suggested in Noon is not simply the act of leaving, but also of staying while insulating oneself from one’s environment. And we all, to some extent, do that in India and Pakistan.

Do you have sympathy or pity for Rehan? Yes, and some contempt and frustration too. He’s very passive. This is a fictional world being robust: it must throw up a range of emotions.

Who do you think are the most exciting voices to emerge in South Asian writing recently? I don’t think of my contemporaries in terms of the region where they live. But I liked Mohsin Hamid’s first book; I liked Daniyal Mueenuddin’ stories; I have Manu Joseph’s book lying on my desk in Delhi. Apart from that, leaving region aside, I have read and liked Aleksandar Hemon, Damon Galgut and Hisham Matar.

What’s your view of e-books and the way digitization is changing how people read? I think it’s all good. It should be embraced as an opportunity and not as something fearful. There was a time when collectors of books couldn’t conceive of having anything as vulgar as a printed book in their libraries. That changed; this will change too.

Are you a voracious reader? Which writers have influenced you the most and why? I read every hour of the day that I am not writing or exercising, so about eight hours on a good day. I read one chapter of epic Sanskrit; some Urdu, if I can; and a range of European writers that include Maupassant, Conrad, and Pushkin. I also read and admire the work of V.S. Naipaul. My reading is either for style, to improve my own—or, in the case of a certain kind of historical reading, to deepen my knowledge of certain periods in history. The 19th century generally and the classical past in India. At one point I was fascinated by the first centuries of the Islamic era, when Semitic civilization was fused with Indo-European.

British tabloids dubbed you as Captain Condom because of the cape and tights you donned to promote safe sex at University. What’s your sartorial style? They made that up; I never—much that I would have liked to—wore a cape and tights. I was not that kind of super hero. I have no sartorial style. All I’ve ever wanted is a uniform.

If you weren't a writer, what would you be? A politician. The Prime Minister, maybe.

It’s been an extremely difficult year for you. How would you look back at 2011? A hellish year. Full of futility and violence.

What’s next for you? I only wish I knew what was next. It’s still fighting its way out.